


Misfortune’s Bitter Storms

by onbeinganangel



Series: the year of the threesome [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Multi, POV Bill Weasley, This Fits into 1995/1996 Canon Events so there's Lots of Talk of War, This Kind of Hints at Past Wolfstar and at Future Remadora, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onbeinganangel/pseuds/onbeinganangel
Summary: A ginger, a Metamorphmagus and a Veela walk into a room... (they fuck, that’s the punchline)
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour/Nymphadora Tonks/Bill Weasley
Series: the year of the threesome [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091564
Comments: 16
Kudos: 47





	Misfortune’s Bitter Storms

**Author's Note:**

> thank you [Adybou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adybou/pseuds/Adybou) and [The_Sinking_Ship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sinking_Ship) for helping me make this baby readable!
> 
> the title is borrowed from Rabbie Burns' [O Wert Thou in the Cauld Blast](http://www.robertburns.org/works/557.shtml) because I feel like these three finding joy and pleasure and comfort in each other on the brink of the second wizarding war is very much like one finding solace in a lover when the winter comes.

Grimmauld Place

Being the eldest of seven siblings gives you an advantage a lot of people don’t have. It makes you observant. It makes you alert. It makes you practically an expert on _people reading_. In Bill Weasley’s particular case, it made him a brilliant Curse-Breaker and an excellent lover. Fleur had told him off for saying it once, but fucking and breaking curses require a lot of same skills: paying attention to small details, patience, reading reactions (no one ever tells you to pay attention to things like causation vs. correlation when they talk you through sex ed, but they should) and, well, general dexterity with your hands.

The thing about being exceptional at reading people is that sometimes you see things people don’t want you to notice — like the longing glances Sirius gives Remus or the sadness in Tonks’ eyes when Remus leaves the room without looking at her twice. 

However, another thing that Bill never misses are the lingering looks shared between Fleur and Tonks when everyone else is supposedly distracted. He’s used to the way people look at his girlfriend. It’s never a problem. _It’s nature_ , he reminds himself. It’s easy to notice when people feel _the pull_ — he’s seen Remus school his features back to impassive, he’s seen Moody move to the opposite side of the room from Fleur in an attempt to keep it together. He would swear he’s seen Ginny’s eyes go a little gauzy whenever Fleur offers to do her hair or paint her nails or do other “ _girly things”_ (Fleur’s words, not his _)_ to try to bond with his little sister. Hell, he’s seen his own father leave the room when it gets a little too much. He’s used to it. 

But Tonks is different. She’s different for two very specific reasons. One being that she doesn’t seem affected by Fleur’s natural charm. She’s curious, very clearly willing _to play_ , but she doesn’t lose control of her faculties like everyone else. The other reason being Fleur’s reaction to _her_. It’s in the way Fleur bats her eyelashes, the small touches when she compliments Tonks’ hair colour of the day, her earrings, her necklace, or her boots. It’s the cheeky smile she does where she’s looking down and then lifts just her eyes directly to you. He knows what _that_ means, and it’s not Veela charm. _That_ is Fleur flirting.

Bill would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. He knows Fleur, from the way she sugars her tea or likes her vegetables cut up, to the way she casts curses and counter-curses (swift, elegant, mostly wandless — so different from his own spellwork). He knows the way her body becomes pliant, soft, and open as she loses her stubborn, fierce edge and gives in to his ministrations in bed. However, there is something about Nymphadora Tonks that piques his curiosity. She’s his brother’s best friend, and has been for many years, whether Charlie wants it or not. Bill has heard her declare with a laugh, _“I can grow scales if that’s what it takes these days.”_ She’s also obviously in love with Remus Lupin, who seems to find himself in a complicated new-lover/old-lover quandary that Bill is very grateful not to be involved in. Mostly, she’s cool as fuck. There’s no other way to put it. 

In temperament, she seems to be the opposite of Fleur: a little brash, a little rough around the edges at first look, but an absolute sweetheart when it comes down to it. Fleur is very much the opposite. It seems when the genes are this diluted people tend to forget about what Veelas really are. She’s pretty, yes. She’s hot and beautiful and she seems sweet and lovely and polite. But it wouldn’t do to forget that part of her genetics include a beak, talons, and an incomprehensible rage that can very quickly turn murderous. Fleur likes to remind him of this quite often, even though she doesn’t actually have the ability to fully turn.

One would think the mood on the brink of a second War, stuck in Grimmauld Place of all places, wouldn’t be conducive to the kind of shenanigans Bill would rather be getting up to with his beautiful girlfriend, at age 26. 

But if they’re all to die soon, he may as well try to make the most of it.

He prods Fleur about it first, one night in bed. 

Just as he expected, she goes all shy and blushing, acts a little coy before she confesses _she’s curious._ “She seems really nice,” she says, accent thick like it always goes when she’s aroused. And because he’s good at reading people, he knows she’s really saying, _“I kind of want to get into her pants, would that be alright with you?”_

He isn’t sure what he is expecting from it, what the heat pooling in his gut and the stirring in his jeans means, but he knows that whatever he’s going to get out of this, he wants it. 

It starts as an excuse, something to poke at when he’s deep inside Fleur and she’s making those delicious small noises in his ear and pushing back against him, lifting her own hips, changing the angle so he’s deeper and deeper and it feels so fucking good. 

“What if she was watching you, right now? What if she was watching me take your tight little pussy like this?” he whispers against her hair. She practically wails — either at the words or the particularly harsh thrust, most likely both — and comes, scratching his back with long manicured nails as she does.

He tries it again, in the morning, while she’s sucking him off in the shower, slow and sloppy just the way he likes it. “What if she was eating you out while you blow me? Would you like that?” And he doesn’t need an answer beyond the deep moan that reverberates through his cock and the way she takes him all the way down into her throat.

It becomes their shared fantasy. 

(Lying Low at) Lupin’s

Lupin says, “I was younger than you during the first war.” 

Bill just swallows and nods. Not much he can say to that.

Mum says, “You tell your little girlfriend she can come sleep at The Burrow even when you’re not there. I don’t know what the girl’s problem is.” 

Bill kisses her cheek and asks her to be nice.

Charlie writes, “Shit is starting to stir here too. I don’t know what to do.” 

Bill writes back, “Come home for a while, mate.”

Bill doesn’t go home to the Burrow or to Grimmauld Place because he’s helping Lupin with a mission for the Order. 

They stay in a rundown cottage in North Wales — the house where Remus grew up. It hasn’t been lived in for many, many years, which makes it a perfect stopping point for missions. Remus is funny, if quiet. He seems to always be running through some deep conflicting thought and Bill had been convinced it had something to do with being in Grimmauld Place with Sirius and with Tonks, but it turns out that Lupin’s contemplative state isn’t exclusive to the old Black house. Bill wonders if it’s his nature or a product of the War, but he knows better than to ask. 

Bill gets it though. There is nothing to like about the situation they’re in. Following Death Eater movement in small Pureblood communities is mostly a dead end. As Lupin likes to put it, “most of these people are Pureblood like Weasleys, not Pureblood like Blacks,” but it must be done. 

“It was like this before, too,” Lupin says one night, over a cup of tea in the dusty kitchen of his childhood. It’s something Bill has heard before from his parents, from the others in Grimmauld Place. But just because he’s heard it before, doesn’t mean it makes it any less ominous.

“It’s nice that Fleur has someone her age to spend time with. It must be awfully lonely with you away for weeks. And Dora is a good egg,” his dad says one afternoon, when they meet somewhere in Hampshire to trade intel for a mission. Bill wonders if that means what he thinks it means but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. 

“I’ll tell you when you come home,” Fleur says one morning, after getting dropped off at Gringotts by none other than Nymphadora Tonks, who looks him in the eye with a cheeky grin and a nod, and simply says “William,” before Apparating away.

The thought eats away at him as he counts the days until this bloody mission with Remus is done and he can go home. It’s both hell and what keeps him going. Thinking of the little glint in Fleur’s eyes when she says, “I’ll tell you when you come home,” thinking of Tonks’ smile and the way she said “I’m fucking your girlfriend” just by saying his name. Mostly imagining what the two of them look like together, what they do at night when he isn’t there, if Tonks is enamoured with the way her slightly tanner skin looks against Fleur’s flawless expanse of milky white in the same the way he is enamoured with the way his own freckles standout that much more when he’s pressed against Fleur.

Grimmauld Place

When he finally gets back to Grimmauld Place, feeling dusty and tired and in need of warm, proper food, he’s disappointed to find out that Tonks is gone on an Auror mission for a few days. At least he seems to share that disappointment with Remus, and he manages to feel a tad guilty at that.

Fleur is tired and moody and he wonders just how long Tonks has been gone. If he’s being fair, he also knows Fleur is drowning in paperwork at Gringotts. He has been given an equally dreadful pile of reports during his last shift. He has to remind himself why it’s important that he’s home and that if he hadn’t taken this shitty desk job in Diagon Alley, he would have never met Fleur. 

His mother makes a fuss over him as soon as he steps into the house. She has to check him for scratches, make sure he’s okay, even though Lupin and himself have nothing to report and were never remotely close to being in danger. 

It’s just how his mother is. One minute she’s hugging him, telling him he ought to be careful, filling his plate with enough food for two, and then the next minute she’s complaining his hair is too long, and it’s completely unbelievable that the Goblins even let him wear that dreaded earring at work.

“I get paid to solve their curse problems, Mum,” he says, and shoves half a Yorkshire Pudding in his mouth. The stuff he and Lupin cooked back in Wales isn’t even comparable to Molly Weasley’s dinners. Merlin, it’s delicious. “They don’t pay me to look pretty,” he finishes.

“But you still do,” Fleur says and winks at him from across the table. “You look very pretty.” If she’s been having this kind of conversation while he’s been away, it’s no surprise his mum is still referring to her as “that girl.” He’s sure they’ll find a middle ground at some point because he knows better than to fight either of them.

It’s his job, as the eldest, to make life easier for anyone trying to date his siblings, and he doesn’t think his mum could dislike anyone more than she does Fleur. Ron could probably bring home the Malfoy kid and his mum wouldn’t bat an eyelid, at this point. 

Fleur keeps looking at him all throughout dinner, throwing him heated glances and even reaches out with a delicate high-heeled foot and nuzzles it against his ankle, which is a rather dangerous game to be playing in Grimmauld Place with the amount of people at the table these days. Bill can’t help but wonder just how often those high-heeled feet found themselves under the table playing with Tonks’ boot-clad ones during the two weeks he was away. 

It’s really not his fault how his cock stirs in his pants at the thought, especially since he’s not managed one second alone with Fleur in two weeks, despite them working in the same place and seeing each other every day. He can’t help it if she keeps dropping hints about Tonks and he’s got a rather imaginative mind.

Eventually, Mad-Eye comes strolling in halfway through pudding to ask for updates on everyone’s missions and to give them Ministry updates of his own, and Bill’s earlier mood dips significantly. 

It doesn’t last long, thankfully. As soon as they’re back to discussing meaningless shit again, Fleur moves to his side and casually but deliberately places a hand on his thigh. His Mother goes on and on about one thing or another; the state of things at Hogwarts, that horrid woman from the Ministry, how the world is upside down, and how scary it is that some things seem even worse than they did the first time around. Bill wants to pay attention, he actually does, but it’s rather difficult with Fleur’s hand moving higher and higher on his thigh.

Not for the first time, they’re saved by Sirius, who shares an amused smile and a handful of words with Fleur in French that no one else understands, and declares that if he’s tired when all he does is sit in the house all day and do nothing, everyone else must be exhausted.

Fleur is on him as soon as they shut the door to the bedroom they’re staying in — a ridiculously large room with the biggest bed he’s ever seen. The bedroom has a curious spell weaved into the windows that don’t actually look outside, but supposedly mimics the weather that matches its inhabitants’ mood. Bill isn’t surprised that, according to the window, it’s not quite night yet. The brightest sunset he’s ever seen bathes the whole room in golden light. 

Bill throws a Silencing spell at the door before dropping his wand on the floor and bends down to kiss Fleur again, hungry and desperate. “Tell me,” he says, against her lips. “Tell me, did she kiss you like this?” 

“Mhmm.”

He’s been told off enough times that he stops himself from ripping her blouse open, instead working the small buttons one by one until it can easily slide off her shoulders. 

He runs his index finger from her mouth, letting it catch slightly on her wet bottom lip, down her throat, her collarbone, between her breasts. And as he goes along, he keeps asking, “did she touch you here?” “And here?” “How about here?” “Here too?”

And Fleur only nods, lets her head tilt back wantonly, and exposes her throat. He hooks both thumbs over the top of her skirt and pulls down until it pools at the bottom of her feet. She steps out of it and lets him push her onto the bed.

That night, she rides him on the perfect square of golden sunset light in the middle of the bed and he discovers Nymphadora Tonks has touched Fleur just about everywhere, and he can’t help but hope that he gets to see it happen, if it ever happens again.

Shell Cottage

He doesn’t really mean to do it, but people are dying every day, he’s working a miserable job he hates, and he misses the Egyptian warmth. So, at the beginning of December, Bill half- by-accident buys a house.

“You bought a house before you bought a ring? Oh, to be a fly on the wall when you tell mum about it,” writes Charlie.

“It’s sudden and ridiculous,” says his mother. “What do you need a house for?”

“It sounds beautiful. Will you take me to see it?” asks Fleur.

So he does. And when he sees it again for the second time since he signed the paperwork on the spot, when he sees the way Fleur looks at it, he knows he made the right decision. He knows it’s way too early to be buying a ring and asking Fleur to move in, but it will be nice to have somewhere to stay, connected to the Floo and easy to Apparate to. Somewhere that isn’t The Burrow or Grimmauld Place or Fleur’s flat that she shares with three more girls and her single bed that squeaks really quite badly. And, of course, he does not have the money to buy a whole house, but he works for a bank and knows he got the best possible deal on the mortgage.

They ward the house together, in contented silent. Fleur comments on the kitchen — how spacious, how bright. How she’s always wanted somewhere she could hear the sea if she looked out the window and warmth blooms in his chest and spreads all over with what she’s implying. She likes Shell Cottage. Enough to come back with him. Maybe permanently, one day.

Once the cottage is clean, outside and out, warded and clear of any leftover trinkets from the old couple that used to live in it, they make their way upstairs, in silent agreement, and get in the shower. Fleur washes his hair gently, standing on the tips of her toes, and they stay under the spray of water for the longest time. They don’t get time for themselves like this. 

He watches the water cascade down her body and thinks maybe that’s why fate brought them together, or whatever. It’s good to have someone worth fighting a war for. 

He remembers walking into the break room at Gringotts as she struggled to find a word in English. He’d worked with enough French-speaking curse breakers back in Egypt to know some things, so he’d offered to help. He’d not considered fucking her, not until at least the fifth time they sat together in the break room, and he’d definitely not considered starting dating someone after moving back home to help fight a fucking war. 

“We’ll bring her here,” Fleur says, against his chest.

“You mean— does she even want…” He doesn’t finish his sentence but gestures towards himself instead.

“You mean the both of us?” Fleur asks. “Of course she does,” she says and kisses his temple softly. Then his cheek, then his jaw, and finally his lips. “We’ll have to let us show you just how much.”

Grimmauld Place

They don’t end up taking Tonks to Shell Cottage because the world turns on its axis when Bill’s dad is attacked, and a dozen of Death Eaters escape Azkaban mere weeks after.

Christmas is dull and clouded in a decidedly unsexy wave of worry. Gringotts gives both Bill and Fleur time off as long as they’re on call in case something happens. Fleur goes back to France for a few days, and Grimmauld Place is just a makeshift replacement Burrow that houses the Weasleys, Harry, Remus, and Sirius.

Charlie comes over for Christmas, which is a relief, and at least, gives Bill a break from his mother’s scrutiny. 

One of the perks of being at Grimmauld Place instead of the Burrow is that the bloody house grows rooms better than the garden back home grows weeds, and Bill and Charlie don’t have to share a bedroom.

New Year’s is quiet and boring, except that he gets to witness Ginny drink Ron under the table which, as far as Bill is concerned, is one of the funniest things that has ever happened. 

Fleur and Tonks arrive back in Grimmauld Place on the same day — a grey, rainy, and decidedly January type of day — and Bill can’t help but wonder if this was planned, but he’s willing to believe that, once again, maybe fate was just on his side.

Grimmauld Place is empty, apart from Sirius, who just melts into the walls like he doesn’t really exist. Bill isn’t the type to waste an opportunity, but he’s suddenly unsure of himself. He’s not felt remotely jealous until this point, which he realises is probably worrisome, but he still really can’t believe Tonks would want him. So, Bill does the next best thing: he offers everyone tea. 

Tonks’ laugh is downright riotous, and the look she shares with Fleur is enough to have his brain running wild with possibilities.

“We’re going to drop our bags upstairs, mon cher,” says Fleur, and makes for the stairwell.

Tonks is on the first step, only a couple behind Fleur, when she turns back and asks Bill if he’s not coming as well.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says as his brain catches up.

“Yes, William. _Oh_. Do keep up,” Tonks says, and fuck, he hopes she’s like that _all the time._

He remembers telling Fleur back at Shell Cottage, as they dried off after their shower, how much he wanted to watch her kiss Tonks. How much he wanted to watch them together, how often he’d thought about it.

He watches them drop their bags by the old wardrobe with the mirrored doors, and he watches Fleur drop her shoes at the edge of the bed and kneel on it, delicately. She offers a hand to Tonks after she takes her boots off too, and lets Fleur pull her up onto the bed.

He holds his breath then, waiting, hoping.

Fleur looks at him and smiles, a coy, teasing smile. Tonks follows her movement and looks at him, too.

“Cat got your tongue?” Tonks asks, and he’s almost embarrassed.

“I think he’s a little overwhelmed,” Fleur replies. And of all the imaginary situations he’s put himself in with these two for the past few weeks, the two of them ganging up on him like this was never one.

Fleur’s eyes look down at the rather visible bulge in his jeans, then back at Tonks. “I think I know what he wants.”

Bill decides very quickly that he would happily die watching Fleur and Tonks kiss _like that._ He’s kissed Fleur hundreds of times and he quickly learns that he loves watching her kiss someone else. Heknows exactly what it feels like, the way her little tongue pokes out tentatively at first, the way she drapes her body over yours to make up for the fact that she’s smaller, even though she is, in fact, much taller than Tonks.

Tonks is a hurricane and Bill sheds his fear, his embarrassment, and his nerves, right there and then. He accepts that yes, maybe he’s had a crush on her since the day Charlie brought her to the Burrow for the first time. No one in their right mind would blame him. She’s gorgeous, not to mention she’s just stupidly cool.

None of that matters now as he watches them undress each other. As he watches Tonks’ hands snake around Fleur’s waist and pull her closer, one of them reaching down to grab a handful of Fleur’s arse, just like he likes to do. Nymphadora Tonks is a woman with impeccable taste, he’ll give her that. 

The part of him that wants to join in and touch both is currently at battle with the part of him that doesn’t want to miss a minute of this — the way Fleur’s lips attach to Tonks’ neck, the way Tonks’ moans ring like a bell in the dark, empty room. He realises then they’re in the room he usually shares with Fleur, which means the light in the room is not actually natural morning light. The pink-ish, soft hues reflect their moods. He likes that. He likes how it feels like morning light, like something fresh and new and, at the same time, something as inevitable as the sun coming up as a new day dawns. 

He’s no longer thinking of the way the light hits his two lovers and makes Fleur’s skin glow and Tonks’ hair look even more pink than usual by the time Tonks has Fleur out of her dress and has her mouth over Fleur’s nipple. Fleur’s little gasps echo inside the large room, against the mahogany above the canopy. 

Tonks makes eye contact with him as she slides her hand into Fleur’s baby blue underwear and Bill just about combusts then, fingers moving rapidly to grab at his jumper from behind his neck, which he discards quickly, together with his t-shirt. It takes him mere seconds to get rid of his socks, jeans, and boxers — the need to be naked more desperate than ever.

He watches Tonks’ hand move against Fleur before he meets her eyes again. She clearly knows what she’s doing by the sounds Fleur is making, and she watches him for his reaction before her eyes drop down to his chest and lower, _and lower, and lower._ She gives him the filthiest smile, which he takes as approval.

He knows she’s about to open her mouth and comment on the fact he’s yet to join them, sohe moves closer and kneels on the bed behind Fleur, placing her between them. He gets a proper look at Tonks then, as he props his chin on Fleur’s shoulder and laves at the side of her neck. 

Tonks is even smaller than she looks — not skinny, like Fleur, but she has the smallest frame Bill has ever seen. His brain offers him numerous possibilities of how easily he could lift her, throw her, manoeuvre her over and under himself, and he makes a mental note of that for later. He lets his cock rest comfortably between Fleur’s arsecheeks — the soft fabric of her pants a relief and a tease at the same time. As he kisses her neck and teases her nipples, he watches Tonks’ hand rub in a steady pace inside Fleur’s pants. Fleur’s head lolls back against his chest as she moans loudly and he holds her there, feels her thighs start to shake. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her pants down with his other hand until they’re stuck halfway down her thighs. Tonks gives him another one of her heated looks and he can’t help but buck against Fleur, relishing in the feeling of familiar heat and wetness as he does. 

Bill moves his hand up Fleur’s inner thighs to meet Tonks’, and as Fleur reacts with a low moan, he slowly parts her open and slides a finger in as Tonks’ continues to work Fleur’s clit in circles.

“Oh, so you _do_ know what to do,” Tonks says, tongue peeking out from her lips briefly. “She said you were good, but I was starting to doubt it.”

He wishes he had a retort to throw back, but Fleur clenches hard around his fingers and bucks against him and all he can say is, “ _Fuck_.”

The rhythm is unbelievable and all he wants to know is why it took them so long to do this. He lets go of Fleur’s belly and wraps his arm around Tonks instead, pulling them both against him, Fleur well and truly sandwiched between himself and Tonks. This gives her less room to keep working Fleur, but gives him the opportunity to finally kiss Tonks over Fleur’s shoulder. Fleur seems to like this, so he doubles his efforts and curls his fingers inside her _just so_ while Tonks nips and bites at his lower lip.

Tonks and Bill bring Fleur off once like that, slow and steady, pressed between their two bodies, while kisses are shared by the three of them, lips and tongues and teeth meeting skin.

Fleur pushes Tonks back until she’s sat against all the fancy pillows by the headboard. Bill’s brain is short-circuiting at how much he wants to fuck them both. Tonks looks hot as hell, confident, smiling, her body on display as Fleur pushes her legs apart in what has to be a practiced move.

He thinks he may just come on the spot when Fleur kneels between Tonks’ open legs and, before she does anything else, she looks at him behind her shoulder and winks. He strokes himself then, relief coursing through his veins like Fiendfyre. 

He watches Tonks lick her lips and then they both drop their eyes down and watch Fleur kiss and lick at Tonks’ pussy. Fleur’s body moves as she keeps going and he watches Tonks’ face as she breaks into quiet hums of pleasure.

It’s not long until Tonks is looking at him again and biting her lips. “Are you going to fuck her, are or you just going to stand there?” she says. “I’m sure she’s nice and ready for you.”

He shuffles forward on his knees and grabs Fleur up by the hips until she’s propped on her knees, arse up and on display, face buried between Tonks’ legs. 

Fleur lets out a long, high-pitched cry when Bill fucks into her slowly. Tonks grabs Fleur’s hair and uses it to push her head back down. The familiar feeling deep in his gut at the delicious wet heat of Fleur around his cock and the image before him is enough to tell him just how close he is already.

It’s easy to set up a rhythm; Bill’s freckled hands on Fleur’s soft hips, Fleur’s pink soft lips lapping over Tonk’s dripping wet pussy, Bill fucking Fleur into Tonks, his moans mixing with Fleur’s cries and Tonks’ groans.

He can’t stop looking, watching Fleur like this, like he’s never seen her — the way her head moves, the way her hands grab at Tonks’ thighs, keeping her legs spread, thumbs digging into the soft flesh.

It isn’t surprising at all that Fleur makes Tonks come with her mouth and fingers — Bill knows what she’s capable of. But it’s incredible to watch this other woman he didn’t even realise he had a crush on for half of his life come undone right before his eyes. 

He’s desperate to touch — he’s always desperate to touch, even with Fleur. He wants to card his hands through her hair, run his open palms down her back, grab at her arse and rake his fingers down the backs of her thighs. He wants to touch Tonks too, now. He wants to find what makes her moan, what makes her breath hitch, what makes her cry out.

Fleur bucks back against him and he can’t help but let out a, “Fuck, Fleur.” 

Tonks holds his gaze as he fucks Fleur harder and Fleur’s hand runs up Tonks’ stomach, boobs, neck, and Tonks opens her mouth and takes two of Fleur’s fingers. He thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever witnessed and then, just to prove him wrong, Fleur’s wet fingers trail back down and Tonks mouths at him, clear as day, “Fuck me.”

“Merlin, shit,” he says, and he holds Fleur’s hips still and pulls out as slowly as he can. Fleur turns around and gets on her knees, arms around his waist to kiss him, and suddenly Tonks is right next to her, hands on him, lips on Fleur’s neck.

The switch is slow and languid, with open mouthed kissing and teasing hands. Fleur is straddling Tonks’ stomach, facing him, when he enters Tonks. She watches him with curious eyes, runs her hands through his long hair and when she looks down and watches, mouth falling open and eyes going wider as Bill fucks Tonks, she whispers quietly, _“mon Dieu.”_

Fleur’s fingers settle over Tonks’ clit, rubbing slowly and before long, Tonks has pulled Fleur back by her hips, so Fleur ends up sitting on Tonks’ face while Bill fucks her, and gods, he’s close. 

Fleur bends forward to kiss him and it’s the most intoxicating feeling in the world — Fleur’s tongue in his mouth, the muffled moans and wet sounds of Tonks eating Fleur out, the pressure and heat around his cock. 

It all happens in very quick succession, although it looks like slow motion before his eyes. Fleur rocks back and forth harder and harder, with both hands on his shoulders for support, and comes with a string of French he doesn’t catch one word of. Tonks follows her soon after with very little noise,hands digging into Fleur’s thighs. The feeling of her squeezing hard around him is all he needs, and he pulls out and comes over her stomach.

They fall into a heap of limbs, comfortable and sated, Fleur and Tonks on either side of him.

Fleur casts a Scourgify at some point, Tonks giggles softly. He smiles. The silence is comfortable, happy, warm. For a second, there’s no war, no danger, no fighting.

“Did someone cast a silencing spell?” Fleur asks, finally.

Bill groans. “Oh fuck. I hope mum is not back from the Burrow.”

Tonks rolls over and laughs. “William, you’re not going to like hearing this, but your mother had seven children during a war, I think she’s well familiar with what it’s like being randy despite the state of the world.”

“Ew,” he says, but laughs, despite himself. “Please don’t say shit like that while I’m naked. And will you stop calling me William?”

“Sure thing, Weasley. I’ll wait until you’ve got your pants on next time.”

Fleur laughs, a soft, delighted, high-pitched sound that gives him butterflies.

Of all the thoughts running through his head in that moment, Bill chooses to settle on his favourite as he pulls both Tonks and Fleur close to him: _he could get used to this._

Next time Sirius walks past Bill in one of the first floor corridors, Bill gets a nod and a wink and he could swear Sirius mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “lucky dog” under his breath.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!  
> come say hi, chat fic and watch me make a fool of myself [on tumblr](https://onbeinganangel.tumblr.com)


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